


The Night We Met

by Dredfulhapiness



Series: Our Nation Turns Its Lonely Eyes To You [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), iron lad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dredfulhapiness/pseuds/Dredfulhapiness
Summary: The bed creaked again. Harley’s head popped around the mattress. Upside down, he looked at Peter. “I mean, that’s not really a conclusion a kid comes to,” Harley said. “Something had to happen, right?”Peter propped himself up on his elbows. He watched Harley carefully, silent long enough to justify as an answer. This was something he hadn’t even told Tony (though he suspected he knew), but Harley was looking at him so earnestly, and he had already called his bluff, and— “My Uncle Ben died,”





	The Night We Met

“Oh, Peter.” Pepper our a hand on the back of his shoulder, and motioned to the boy approaching them. “This is Harley— he was... a friend of Tony’s.”

 

He was tall, dark haired, tired. He smiled at Pepper, though. 

 

“It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck a hand out. “I’m Peter.” 

 

“Peter’s been working on the Stark Internship,” Pepper said. She smiled, weak, and took another sip of her wine. Harley shook his hand. 

 

“Sounds exciting,” Harley mused. “What did you work on?” 

 

“Uhh,” Peter said eloquently. “Just some basic development stuff. Simple coding. It was back when he was still in Manhattan.” 

 

Harley stuck his hands in his pockets. 

 

“How did you know Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, eyes scanning the room for May. She was in a deep conversation with Pepper, one comforting hand on her forearm. His gut clenched. She’d just been through this herself— except, not really. That had been years ago. She’d lost even more since then. She’d gotten some of it back. His eyes shot back to Harley. He was looking at him, carefully. 

 

“I helped him out a while ago. He’s been funding most of my projects since.” 

 

Peter tilted his head. “Projects?” 

 

“I’m, uh.” Harley made a face. “Something of a junior engineer.” 

 

“What kind of stuff?” Peter asked, suddenly excited. He leaned forward. “Like, electrical? Mechanical? Civil?”

 

Harley coughed, taken firmly aback. “Not civil,” he elaborated. “I... it’s a little hard to describe.” When Peter’s enthusiasm didn’t abate, he tried, “I guess I can show you? If you want.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

 

Peter was looking through the blueprints when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped. 

 

“Do you mind if I borrow him for a second?” And Peter’s chest squeezed because oh my god oh my god holy forking shirt balls  Captain America had a hand on his shoulder. Harley waved his hand. Peter handed him his phone back. 

 

Steve—  Captain America — pulled Peter aside. “I wanted to see how you were doing—“ and why did people keep asking him that? Of all the people here, Peter knew Tony the least. Steve had been his best friend, Peter should be asking /him/ how he was doing. 

 

“I’m doing okay,” he said, “thanks.” Peter ran his hands through his hair. The answer was actually: hopeless. And a little bit: tired. And a little more: confused. He figured that was universal. 

 

“You did a good job out there— in the fight. You held your own.” Two weeks ago— actually, five years and two weeks ago— a compliment from Captain America would have made him melt. Now it just made his head hurt. “Those webs are strong. You design them?” 

 

Peter wondered if Steve had thought they were cool when they were being used against him. He didn’t have the courage to ask. He also didn’t have the courage to ask: why are you starting this conversation? “Yeah. For the most part. Mr—“ his voice caught. “Mr. Stark designed the suit, though. He fixed some bugs.”

 

Steve nodded. Something flashed across his face, an emotion that Peter couldn’t quite catch. Sometimes he wished his Spider-senses came with a mind reader, or the ability of an empath. “That’s pretty impressive, kid.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I wanted to let you know that if you need anything, the Avengers are here. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

 

Peter looked down at his feet. His dress shoes were worn and dirty from the service outside. He swallowed. “Thank you,” he said, voice suddenly hoarse. “And, uh, you too. You know, if you ever need, uh,” He dropped his voice, “Spider-Man… you have my number.”

 

Steve laughed— a huff-- and nodded. “We’ll keep you in mind.”He patted Peter on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Queens.” He turned away, back toward Bucky and Sam.

 

“You too, Captain America,” Peter said to Steve’s back. 

 

Peter let himself deflate with a big sigh. The moment of peace didn’t last long. 

 

“So, Spider-Man, huh?” Peter whirled around. Harley was leaning against the wall watching Peter with curious eyes. “That’s pretty cool.”

 

“Hey, can you— shhh.” Peter looked around. No one was paying them any mind. It didn’t strike him until hours later that it had been pointless— all of the people here other than Harley knew who he was. Harley put his hands up. 

 

“Relax,” he promised, “I’m not going to tell anyone. I will say, though, it’s pretty suspicious to have one Stark intern at a funeral full of Avengers.” 

 

Peter cleared his throat. “Well, I wasn’t expecting there to be people here that  aren’t  Avengers.”

 

“I’ve saved an Avenger,” he said. “What’s the difference?”

 

Peter looked at him blankly. Harley’s lips twitched into a smile. “I’ll tell you when we aren’t surrounded by Avengers. The story might hurt Tony’s street cred.” And Peter laughed at that, freely for a moment, before remembering where he was. 

 

—

 

Peter started up the bottom of the bunk bed. Above him, he heard Harley shift. 

 

“You need anything? Another blanket?” 

 

A grateful scoff was the reply. 

 

“I’m okay,” Harley assured. “Heat rises.” He was quiet for a few seconds. Then, “Hey, thanks for letting me stay before my flight home. Pepper offered me the private jet, but I just don’t think it would feel... right.” 

 

Peter understood every level of that feeling. 

 

“Don’t worry about it, man. We have the extra bed.” The Stark residence made him feel out of place in the same way Stark Towers looked in the skyline. Somehow, it made everything else in the city look cheap, and old, and out-of-touch. 

 

Peter felt that way about a lot of the gifts Tony had given him: a powerful new suit, the Audi for his driver’s test, the promised Stark scholarship for wherever he decided to go to college. Even now, he found himself wondering how many of those were apologies for what happened in Germany. He wondered if Tony still felt bad about bringing Peter into his fight. 

 

“We didn’t really get to talk,” Harley said. His voice pulled Peter out of his thoughts. “Upstate. But I wanted to ask: why are you doing this? The whole Spider-Man thing, I mean. What do you get out of it?”

 

Peter sighed. He looked down at the edge of his bed, where Mr. Stark had asked him that same question a couple— quite a few— years ago. “I have these powers,” he told Harley, same as he’d told Tony, “If something bad happens and I don’t use them, that’s on me.” 

 

“Yeah, but what made you think that?”

 

Peter swallowed. He could hear a train coming. It was at least two miles out, but he felt it under his skin— rattling. “What?”

 

The bed creaked again. Harley’s head popped around the mattress. Upside down, he looked at Peter. “I mean, that’s not really a conclusion a kid comes to,” Harley said. “Something had to happen, right?” 

 

Peter propped himself up on his elbows. He watched Harley carefully, silent long enough to justify as an answer. This was something he hadn’t even told Tony (though he suspected he knew), but Harley was looking at him so earnestly, and he had already called his bluff, and— “My Uncle Ben died,” he said finally. “In the kitchen, someone... someone broke in, shot him.” Harley’s expression didn’t change. “The man who did it... I’d just let him go before that. I figured that it wasn’t my problem.” Harley’s head tilted, slightly. Peter cleared his throat. “Anyway, it just made me realize that I have these powers, y’know, and there’s a responsibility that goes along with it. If I’m not saving people, I’m letting it happen.” 

 

“That’s a very big jump to make,” Harley said. 

 

“I have very powerful legs.” 

 

Harley snorted. His face broke into a suspended smile. His hair shook. He pulled himself back up onto the bunk. Peter listened to the sounds of him settling back into position. The train was closer. If Peter strained, he could hear it. 

 

“What about you?” He asked when Harley had stopped shifting. “Why are you doing it?”

 

“I’m not,” Harley answered. “I think I’ll leave that to the big boys.” 

 

“I saw the plans you showed me on your phone,” Peter said, suddenly feeling brave. “Those aren’t a hobby. They’re an arsenal.” 

 

They were weapons, he was sure of it. Blasters, armor, grappling hooks. They looked familiar, too, like something he would find hanging on the walls of the Avengers compound. They were beautiful, if not a little intimidating. 

 

They also looked very, very professional. 

 

Harley sighed. 

 

Peter, again, “what’s it for?” 

 

Silence was the response. Peter was debating whether or not he would ask again when Harley finally answered. 

 

“I’m tired of losing things and not being able to do anything about it.” 

 

Peter swallowed. The train roared past. The hair on his arms stood, the room rattled. Peter grit his teeth until it had faded, again, to a faint twinge under his skin. 

 

“The snap...”

 

“My mom and my sister.” 

 

Peter closed his eyes. He couldn’t help feel responsible. He knew— yes, he knew— that there was only one way and all the rest of the speech that Dr. Strange had given them, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe if they’d fought harder to get the gauntlet that maybe they’d have had another chance. Maybe it didn’t need to be like this, maybe May didn’t have to mourn him, too. Maybe Tony could have lived. 

 

“What about your dad?” 

 

“If he got snapped, I didn’t notice.” 

 

“What did you do for five years?”

 

Peter searched the shadows on the wall while he awaited an answer. Outside, the city was shifting. Cars were driving by, trees swayed, some unadjusted birds sang. The world was straining to re-accommodate. There were more inhabitants than ever before. 

 

“Worked,” Harley said finally. “On the plans you saw. On some other stuff. I didn’t know what the world was going to come to.” 

 

“They’re back now,” Peter said softly. “Your family.”

 

“Yeah,” Harley agreed. “And I plan to keep it that way.” 

 

When Peter couldn’t find a response, and when Harley didn’t elaborate, Peter rolled over into his side. He pulled an arm under his pillow and thought— really thought— about the repercussions of being alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m actually really proud of this one! 
> 
> Come talk to me on Twitter or Tumblr at @dredfulhapiness
> 
> I love talking about comics!


End file.
